


Divulgence

by ArtificialWick



Series: Crescent nights [3]
Category: Twilight (Movies), Twilight Series - All Media Types, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Adding characters and relationships as I post, Angst, Carlisle is human, F/M, First Dates, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Shapeshifter Esme AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-18 21:01:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29739810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtificialWick/pseuds/ArtificialWick
Summary: She should have seen it coming, in hindsight, she really should have but sometimes being blissfully unaware of the warning signs and the red flags is better. It was then. Thinking on it now, things had worked out, sort of. In the long run it had solved itself but not without strife. Not without pushing and pulling. Not without tearing hard at the seams that held together the fabric of their existence. Minuscule to the universe, so very important to theirs.
Relationships: Alice Cullen/Jasper Hale, Carlisle Cullen/Esme Cullen
Series: Crescent nights [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2142738
Comments: 23
Kudos: 19





	1. Recollection

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to be the first major fic with bigger plot points in the Wolf!Esme AU. I highly recommend reading the two previous one shots in this AU, as they are hinted at throughout this fic on occassion. First chapter is nice and big as a treat. The rest will be slightly shorter unless my muses run wild again.
> 
> No trigger warnings for this first chapter! Hope you enjoy!

She should have seen it coming, in hindsight, she really should have but sometimes being blissfully unaware of the warning signs and the red flags is better. It was then. Thinking on it now, things had worked out, sort of. In the long run it had solved itself but not without strife. Not without pushing and pulling. Not without tearing hard at the seams that held together the fabric of their existence. Minuscule to the universe, so very important to theirs.

When November rears it’s head to greet them this year it comes together with the first snowfall of that winter and by the time the town freezes over both Esme and Carlisle have moved their annual reading sessions into the warmth of her living room. Sometimes they sit in her studio while she paints but sitting in each other’s proximity on the couch works just as well. Carlisle would be lying if he said he didn’t prefer the living room, Esme’s studio doesn’t have a working heater and she never seems to be bothered by it. Though, ever since his insistence she’s started wearing a soft ochre scarf.

One winter’s day he comes to find her shouting at her students with concern to be careful as they are running around during recess. He’d decided to make use of his break today to drive by the school in the hopes that he could ask her something, something that had been on his mind for a while now.

Esme’s dressed in a pencil skirt that reaches just below the knees, and her woolen coat reaches down to her thighs. She’s got a purple scarf wrapped around her neck and he can’t help but wonder if it is any use, the wind will just catch her by her legs. Then again, this is just who she is. She is cold resistant and he knows the scarf is just pretence. He has stopped commenting on it after getting her to wear the scarf around her studio. She had very adamantly told him that he should not play doctor with her while off duty.

He doesn’t have to call for her because she catches him standing outside the fence and with a final shout to the kids insisting that they stop running across the ice before they get hurt she half-glides her way toward him, trying to set an example of being cautious despite the heels she is wearing.

“Carlisle! To what do I owe the pleasure?” she queries with genuine excitement and a tinge of bemused sarcasm, looking over at the kids she’s supposed to be watching every so often. “I thought you’d have plenty of work to do with the amount of freak accidents occurring right now.”

He chuckles fondly, “I’ll have another case on my hands if you don’t start wearing jeans some time soon. You might catch a cold going out like this.”

She looks over at him with a mock-serious expression and laughs, “a woman is entitled to her skirts.” Esme can tell he’s not buying it though, so she is quick to add on, “I’m not cold, I promise.”

Carlisle holds up both of his hands in defence, “alright, alright, I’ll let you off the hook for now, Miss Platt.”

He can’t help the concern in his voice, even as he jokingly lets it slide. They stand in quiet for a minute or so as they observe the rowdy students playing their games before Esme turns to him again.

“You didn’t answer my question before,” she says, voice soft and warm. He hums, a clear inquiry as to what she means. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“O,” he responds, hand coming up to rub the back of his neck as if he is suddenly nervous. She looks up at him, attention entirely on his mannerism. “I was wondering if you’d want to come over to mine some time, I was thinking we could have dinner? Together?”

Momentarily Esme is startled. He’s never asked and while she had been around the place before because her heart had subconsciously led her there, she’s never been invited in this way. She’s all of a sudden quite content in knowing that he is most definitely human and therefore can’t hear her heart race inside her chest. She feels heat creeping up her neck and if she’s going red she’ll blame the cold for it for the first time ever in her life.

She’d really like that, she thinks, being around him in his home instead of her own. It’s a bit odd because she’s never been one to be this comfortable when men ask her out but he is different. Definitely. Esme finds herself wanting this, fully, without question; at least, if her heart is any indication.

She must not have responded out loud because by the time she zones back in Carlisle is in the middle of saying that he will gladly continue to come over to hers if it’s more convenient or comfortable for her. “If this is out of line I am sorry, I just enjoy being around you a lot and I feel bad for staying over so much without giving you anything in return and-”

“Gladly,” she interjects. Now it is his turn to be surprised, had he not been red from the cold before, he would be now. Esme grins bashfully as she looks up at him.

“Alright!” his voice has a higher pitch for a minute and she can’t help laughing playfully. It helps to know that she isn’t the only one suffering from a case of sudden nerves and being overwhelmed by this development. “I’ll pick you up around eight. Does that work?”

“Yes it does, eight is fine.” She doesn’t get to say much else because they’re interrupted by the school bell ringing and signaling the end of recess. “I better go and rein in the kids before they turn into icicles or worse, end up slipping which means I’ll have to call their parents and drive them to the hospital.” 

Esme’s rambling a little bit and she catches herself by stepping away to put distance between them. She waves at him and he returns it with a genuine smile and a “see you tonight.”

They part ways with an anticipating sort of awkwardness between them, one that is akin to what Esme felt the first few times Carlisle had shown up to her porch. It’s not entirely unpleasant, especially not now that she knows that her company is wanted. Of course the past half year of him stopping by hers had told her as much, but it’s nice to be invited over for a change. It’s new terrain though, which makes her a slight bit antsy. She’d be lying if she tried to deny it.

The feeling lingers throughout the day and focussing on the class she’s teaching becomes a bit more difficult now that she knows what is coming up. She’s eager to rush home and freshen up, to spend just a little bit of extra time fussing over her hair and dress. So, when the bell rings once more to tell her they’ve reached the day's conclusion she’s out the door before she realizes it. Usually she ends up chatting with parents or teachers but today is no longer the day for that.

Esme walks home faster than she should be allowed to with the weather and all but, with only one almost slip-up to account for, she makes it in one piece. With the door closed behind her it doesn’t take long for her to break into a happy bounce. She spends a good minute or two simply laughing and giggling to herself in a way that is reminiscent of the first time she’d seriously been in love. Unfortunately that story had not ended well but she allows herself this second of bliss because this is different in every way possible.

She’s still grinning from ear to ear when she makes it to the shower. The water is warm and she takes extra care in cleaning herself off. Not sure she’s entirely clean she washes her hair twice. Not that it’s necessary, but the idea of making sure and lightly scratching at her own scalp eases the nerves slowly building a toppling tower inside her stomach. It’s hard to control but she manages.

She dresses in a fresh pair of stockings, quietly securing the hold-ups in place with garters of which she swears she hasn’t worn in years. Over this she sports a deep green dress with elbow length sleeves, there’s a blue plaid bow at the neckline that matches with one of the pleats in the skirt. As she muses on what shoes to go with she fusses over her hair. Standing in the bathroom she creates billows of soft loose caramel curls. Her make-up is light, a brown eyeshadow that’s slightly darker than her skin tone and a pink lip that borders on red.

In the end she switches shoes two times. One time the heels are too high (it’s the ice she thinks, how embarrassing it would be to slip on the driveway), the other time the shine of the usually adorable black heels don’t match up well with the rest of her appearance. Her eventual choice is a pair of deep green matte pumps that had somehow ended up out of sight in the back of her closet.

Satisfied with her appearance she goes downstairs to wait. With an hour to kill she picks up the novella she’d started reading a few days prior. She hadn’t really had the time to sit down with it but now that she does, the time slows to a crawl. Esme can’t really focus on the text, a fair bit preoccupied with what is to come and she finds herself fiddling with the corner of the page she’d been staring at for at least ten minutes.

Then finally there’s the familiar ringing of her doorbell and when she glances out the window she spots the black Mercedes outside. Grinning from ear to ear she puts in her bookmark before trying her best to rein in the excited nerves that threaten to come spilling out. She straightens out the pleats of her dress and makes her way over to the front. Taking her coat off the hook and draping it over her left arm she sucks in a deep breath of air and opens the door. 

The worry of having dressed a little bit over the top subside almost immediately, for Carlisle is dressed as gentlemanly as she’s ever seen anyone do.For a moment she makes the comparison that he might look more pristine than her ex-husband had at their wedding years ago. She can’t help the quiet ‘wow’ from leaving her and laughs. It’s silent for a moment before both of them utter something along the lines of the other looking beautiful.

Nothing more is needed as Carlisle extends his arm and lets Esme take it. The drive over to his residence isn’t too long and while there isn’t much talk the silence is comfortable. He drives across the frozen roads with care and Esme appreciates the effort, she’s never been one for cars and especially not after the way Charles would drive. She hated it more than anything but this? This is safe.

His house is of a moderate size, though definitely one of the larger ones she knows there are in Hoodsport. Naturally, he can afford more, he’s got a doctor’s income. Esme doesn’t mind it, she knows how he is and how he is humble. This is further proven by the fact that unlike her home, his is sparsely decorated. He doesn’t flaunt the wealth he clearly has and it puts her at ease.

Their night is spent chatting over dinner as the snow continues to come down outside. This is a date in every sense of the word and the little girl still living inside of Esme is radiating nothing but happiness. The food is delicious, there’s candles in the space between them and the white whine she’s nursing is right up her alley.

“So,” Esme starts, interested, “what do you do when you’re not working, or camping out on my porch? Do you even sleep?”

The conversation is light and airy, filled with plenty of laughter. Nerves have subsided for both of them.

“I take the days as they come,” Carlisle answers, looking up to meet her eyes, “I’m quite content with life in Hoodsport.”

Esme frowns lightly, as if there’s something wrong with his response. Her lips part to speak but the words don’t come out. As if on cue she glances down at her glass and then back up at him, she does this when she’s antsy to ask something. He’s noticed it before, except now it happens faster than it usually does. He gives her an encouraging smile.

“Why Hoodsport? I mean, of all the places to go, why a small town with only a few hundred people in it?” she pauses momentarily, “surely someone with your reputation could land a better job?”

“As could someone with your knack for teaching, yet, here we are.”

Esme is taken aback by his straightforward response, but not in a bad way. He is right and who is she to ask, then again it is mere curiosity. Half a year of knowing him and still she has so many questions she yearns to ask. Later, perhaps some time in the morning, she’ll blame her second glass of wine for her directness. 

“There must be a reason, I have mine,” she smirks at this, if only he knew. “I’m sure you have yours?”

She almost sounds sultry, and he knows she’s not going to let go. He can tell from the flicker of light in her eyes. It’s the same intrigue he sees reflected there whenever they speak about a shared interest, which happens more often than not.

He exhales deeply and relents.

“I’m not entirely certain I’ve mentioned it but I moved here from Polesworth, Britain. The world of medicine has moved me in the direction of the United States. It just was more interesting, but all the same the small-town life intrigued me. There was a job offering open in Hoodsport and the rest is history, as they say.”

Carlisle looks at her with affection, she’s got her hands folded together and is resting her chin on them as she listens intently. It’s extremely endearing, much like everything else she does.

For a fleeting moment she seems pensive, saddened. “Isn’t there anyone you miss? Friends? Family?”

He hums, “of course there are some. I call my mother every now and then if the time difference allows for it, she misses me plenty.”

Esme awe’s audibly. It doesn’t fly past her that he doesn’t mention his father but, she reckons that she isn’t one to judge. She isn’t in contact with any part of her family, the one she is bound to by blood in any way.”

“Then there is a good friend of mine, he’s a bit of an odd-ball but he studied the finer arts. I’ve known him for several years. He should be flying out here for a while in a few weeks from now, you should come around then. I’m sure you could find something to bond over.”

They chat a while about this friend of his, Aro. He used to come out more but ever since a medical incident, he doesn’t show his face as often. Though, for Carlisle he always seemed to make an exception. This is one of those exceptions.

“Well,” Esme laughs, “just make sure you show him all four corners of this small town when he does come here.” 

Carlisle jokingly agrees as they dissolve into laughter together. Quieting down and visibly sobering up a little Esme wonders out loud what could be so interesting about a small town like theirs that doesn’t even show up on most maps for him to come all the way over here (other than you, she adds mentally). The sun rarely shines and there isn’t much of interest here. 

Carlisle can only shrug, he doesn’t really have an answer. Aro picks the oddest time to come here, right in the middle of winter, one much colder than the one he is probably used to but he can’t really complain. Now, finally, he gets to use up his well deserved off-days and he doesn’t at all mind seeing his friend again, whom he hasn’t seen in roughly two years.

At the end of the night they end up seated shoulder to shoulder on the surprisingly comfortable leather couch in his living room. Conversation continues being easy and as Esme finishes her wine Carlisle is quick to notice that she is growing increasingly tired. She naturally fights him on this but when she does end up leaning on his shoulder and the talking dies down, she’s fast asleep in under a minute. 

It is the first time she’s reached out for physical contact aside from the brief shakes of hands and accidental bumping into one another, and he can’t help but feel it is like crossing over a hurdle. He remembers well every so often the occasions where she’d look like she had wanted to reach out but had withdrawn instead. He’d waited for her and now that the trust is here, he can not help but feel blessed.

He gently moves to lift her off his shoulder after a while and when she murmurs and stirs he is quick to hush her back to sleep. What Esme misses is the look of adoration he sends her as he looks at her sleeping form. He helps her lie comfortably on her side and drapes not one but two woolen blankets over her to make sure she doesn’t get cold during the night before heading up to bed himself.

This had been the start of something good.


	2. Kindred spirits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to the kudos and the comments, they make my day! 
> 
> Here is the second chapter of this fic, as promised! In this Esme explorers her feelings a little bit and we meet a face familiar to her. It is a slight bit shorter than the first chapter but still chuckful of good content.
> 
> There are no trigger warnings for this chapter so without further ado, I hope you enjoy!

Esme had been gone by the time he’d woken up and made it downstairs. The pang of disappointment that had gone through his heart had been quick to pass at the neatly written note he had found on the table, reading that she had had an excellent night and had left early to go and nurse her headache in the peace and quiet of her own home. 

After that, the week passes them by quickly. Carlisle has started working double shifts in favor of helping people during the colder days and Esme spends most of her time grading essays. On top of that she finds that she doesn’t run as much as she wants to, worried about frostbite despite knowing that the cold won’t get to her the way it does to others. When she does run it feels exhilarating, relieving. Stretching long furred legs while she consciously tries not to slip over the icey grounds as she sprints along Finch Creek. It has her feeling more alive than she has in a while, though not as much as while she is with him. This is a thought that has taken her long to admit to herself but with him, she feels safe and understood; alive. 

Some time later, when she makes it up the trail that leads high up into the mountains, she starts to regret not bringing her sketchbook. It’s beautiful as always and Esme settles down on a slanted rock that doesn’t look like it is entirely covered in snow.

The sun makes the snow look crystalline, like little diamonds fallen from heaven. It’s mesmerizing and Esme loses track of time as she rests there, snow melting and wetting her pelt. At one point she’s come to rest her head on her front legs which lie outstretched in front of her. Her eyes have half fluttered shut by the time twilight arrives. 

Her ear twitches into the direction left of her instinctively before she turns her head into the direction of the sound. With ears perked upward atop her head she listens, alerted. For a while there is nothing but the occasional chirping of a bird or the howling of the wind but then there it is again.

It is unmistakable, the soft howl coming from miles away. It’s so far out that to humans it might have fallen upon deaf ears but Esme knows. She knows that howl, light and airy. She has not heard it in a few years but it is burnt into her memory nevertheless. She runs into the direction, letting out a high-pitched howl to let who else is there know that she’s heard, that she’s on her way.

It takes a few miles -birds fleeing their nests above her and smaller ground animals scurrying into bushes and trees as she flies past them with feet thundering against the ground without a care- before she hears another call. It is the same wolf as before, she can tell, and she knows the scent. It’s a mix of something sweet like honey and sharp and fresh like pine. She would know it anywhere and is pleased when she manages to pick up the trail properly, the scent getting stronger as she moves forward. 

Esme can tell that where they’re headed is her home, and there are few who know who she is and where she resides. She meets the other one in a small clearing not too far from her residence, both coming to a rather messy halt at the same time. Loose snow goes flying and Esme takes a moment to shake the snowflakes out of her fur.

They stand facing each other, eyes meeting. Esme is instinctively standing tall with her head high and her tail raised. The other -a white wolf with smooth and short fur, intense black eyes and a tail-tip as dark as coal- slowly trots up to her until they’re mere but one measly inch apart. There is barely contained excitement there, Esme can tell, but she waits patiently. Even if she lives without, there’s certain habits and pleasantries that come with the pack-life.

While she doesn’t live with a pack, there are some that could be considered her pack. So, she waits as ears are lowered and a white muzzle is titled up to hers, tongue darting out from in between sharp canines to lick at her nose. With the formalities over the two break composure, the smaller white wolf bounds around her and is elated, releasing yelps and short howls into the cold air. Esme can’t help but indulge for a moment, whining in return as a sign of friendliness.

Tapping into the mental connection that she shares with the few wolves she definitely considers family, she greets her in a most human manner.  _ ‘It’s so good to see you again Alice,’  _ she thinks, reaffirming the statement by brushing up against the other’s side, a gesture that gets returned fondly. 

Alice responds as Alice does, out of her mind with happiness and without taking the time to breathe.  _ ‘Likewise! For a moment I thought I wasn’t going to find you but then you howled back and I knew I was right. What I see is rarely ever wrong, I told Jasper but I knew he was starting to grow weary. Too many humans he thought, for a second you had me worried he was going to be right and you weren’t going to be here. But your scent is strong here, I just knew-’ _

Somewhere between her mental ramble of unbounded joy Esme manages to get a word in, lowering her head and setting off into a trot toward her home. Alice naturally follows, falling into step behind her.  _ ‘Please, come with me. You must be tired, I know you two don’t reside close to here. Where is Jasper?’ _

Behind her she hears a growl that oddly resembles a rather human chuckle,  _ ‘too many people, he’s been in a bit of a rush lately so his emotions are a bit raised and he doesn’t want to burden you. I told him of course that it wouldn’t be a burden but he insisted on camping out in your territory and hunting wildlife instead.’ _

Esme shakes her head at that and stops momentarily to let out a loud howl, wolves aren’t uncommon in the area so she isn’t too concerned about howling this close to the neighborhood. It takes a minute before she receives an answer. If Alice could have laughed, she would have. Jasper’s howl is a polite decline. 

_ ‘He’s welcome any time,’ _ Esme thinks as she nudges open the backdoor, keeping it open until Alice is through as well  _ ‘I have enough food at home to feed an entire village, or a pack in this case.’ _

That makes her turn on the spot, one of her front paws raised slightly off the ground,  _ ‘did you eat before you arrived here?’ _ Alice nods eagerly to answer the question and follows it up with something else entirely. 

_ ‘Do you happen to have spare clothes? We left ours at our residence since we left in a rush and I didn’t imagine having to shift for a while yet.’ _

Esme merely dips her head as pushes open the backdoor of her house. It opens inward instead of outward for this specific reason and it hadn’t gone unnoticed because Carlisle had mentioned once that he thought it odd. It isn’t the only oddity in her home however because every hallway is spacious with high ceilings. Esme had picked this home for that very reason, knowing that if she needed to get out in her wolf form for whatever reason that she would not get stuck. Now, it’s just a convenience.

Leaving her guest outside for a minute she phases back into human form once she is out of Alice’s line of sight and runs up the steps. Walking into her bedroom she slips into her nightgown first, throwing her dressing gown over it for good measure. She picks up a fresh gown that she knows to be somewhat small for herself from the back of her closet and quickly makes a stop in the guest room to take the spare dressing gown from there. She pauses and brings the fabric of it up to her nose, there’s hints of Carlisle’s scent on it.

Coming back outside the first thing she does is apologize profusely for that scent but Alice moves in a way that resembles a bit of a shrug, which is peculiar because Esme knows the younger wolf to usually be rather particular about scents. All she receives in return is a curious glance as Alice’s nose twitches, but there is no further comment on it.

“It’s late, you can rummage through my closet in the morning,” Esme adds, feeling a lazy but satisfied sort of exhaustion settle into her bones. It’s a feeling she knows all too well, it takes her every time she sees the few she calls family. “I’ll give you some privacy, make yourself at home.”

Those are dangerous words to tell Alice because Esme knows she will hold her to that, but she knows the young one can respect privacy and act more than civilised when needed. She isn’t worried for one minute, so she leaves the lights off downstairs and moves up. She settles on her bed but leaves the door open as to not shut Alice out so soon after her arrival. 

She’s engrossed in a romantic novel about star crossed lovers when Alice makes her way up. Looking down the hall she notices Alice pause in front of the guest room for a minute, rapidly taking in how some things have changed since she’d last set foot here. It had been over at least two years since the time Alice had stopped by to check in on her and despite the open invite, Esme had encouraged the kids to go figure out a life for themselves instead of feeling like they should be forced to hover around her. Which is exactly what they had ended up doing.

Feeling eyes on her, the pixie-haired girl comes flitting her way. She discards the dressing gown on the back of a chair in the corner of Esme’s bedroom before sliding onto the far end of the bed. 

“You can stay here,” Esme starts, bookmarking the novel and setting it aside blindly, “you don’t have to stay in the guest room.”

Alice releases a breath she hadn’t realised she was holding, shoulders sagging in relief which causes Esme to laugh tiredly. There’s a familiar mirth in her eyes as she speaks, “no offence but good, I’m very picky with my scents and his scent is everywhere there.”

Esme pats the empty space on the kingsize bed beside her and Alice scoots over. Sometimes, Esme muses as the young one settles into her side instinctively, she finds it a slight bit uncomfortable to do this as humans. It’s different as wolves, laying together with others she knows and trusts but she adjusts quickly and wraps an arm around Alice.

Fleetingly she wonders if Alice has spent all her energy earlier and had fallen right asleep but she hasn’t. “I saw him coming to you in a vision,” she begins softly, calmer than her usual demeanor. It’s something she has sometimes, a glimpse of the future. She calls them visions and she’s had them for the entirety of the four years that Esme had known her. Sometimes she will actively check in on people, trying to see them. It does her good to know that even while out of sight, Alice had still looked out for her.

“I knew there was a reason why you’d drifted here, I just couldn’t see it for a while. Until about a week ago, I saw you smiling and then I saw him there with you and you looked so happy.”

A week ago must have been during dinner at Carlisle’s. She still hadn’t entirely come to terms with that night but all she knows is that it had made her happier than any night with her ex-husband ever had. She has no reason not to trust Carlisle and he had proven it a hundred times over. It had been a successful date she finds worthy of repeating. Somewhere around then she must have accepted it all, her feelings in regards to him. To let her guard down around him in the way she had, had been the telltale sign. 

As they lie together with Esme resting her head atop of Alice’s, they reminisce. She had seen Esme coming from miles away long before they had met in person, tall and proud with almost blonde fur and kind blue eyes to match. So, when Esme had stumbled upon Jasper and herself she hadn’t been surprised. Esme had welcomed them with open arms and cared for them when they had been alone and fresh out of the hell they had lived in, something Alice would be eternally thankful for. 

Later on as they had met with wolves that Esme had known before she had met the two of them, they had without realising come to the conclusion that in their small mismatched and only sometimes-together pack, Esme had definitely become the Alpha female. She was the one they all looked to, each for reasons their own.

So, when Esme had split from the pack for longer than usual it had torn them up completely. Seeing and feeling their dynamic worsen as Esme vanished from their mental field Alice had been quick to tell them that she hadn’t made the decision overnight but had felt a call in a direction that she couldn’t ignore any longer. 

Alice had had several brief visions prior to her departure of Esme running by a long creek and teaching, something she’d said she had always wanted to do but had not gotten to for a long time. The pack, knowing then that Esme would find her happiness and that they could go and find her whenever they wanted to with the reassurance that Alice could always see her, had wandered on, sometimes splitting from each other. Wandering but never far.

“He’s brought me here you know, to Hoodsport-” Alice says then, a quintessentially bright Alice-like smile never leaving her face as she dreamily stares ahead at the nature scene that covers the far wall of Esme’s bedroom; another painting of hers. “What’s his name?”

Esme feels a warmth blossoming inside of her chest, just underneath her ribs, “Carlisle Cullen.”

Alice repeats it, testing the names on her lips. She smiles, visibly pleased at the sound of it. “That vision I had of Carlisle, with you. You seemed to be so alive. Does he make you happy?”

His scent is all over her apartment, she knows this. She’d seen Alice stop by her guest room on the way up, picking up on his scent there, it being much stronger in that specific room. Carlisle’s scarf had been neatly folded over the back of the desk-chair; a growing pile of books that had his name written all over it being stacked on the corner of it only added to it. It would not take a genius to figure out that he had stayed at her residence plenty of times before now. Something, which Alice knows means a lot. Esme had never been one to let people in easy despite her very warm personality, she’d always been weary.

“He does, Alice, he does.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There she is, Alice! I did say once I would introduce the pack, so here is the first. Jasper is out there somewhere too, probably with good reason. This chapter is still a slight bit slow but it does set up the next chapter, which I will post next saturday.
> 
> As always, any comments, kudos and thoughts would be welcome, they motivate greatly! Hope you enjoyed this!  
> My tumblr (that I post my carlesme content on anyhow) is Meluisart, so feel free to hit me up there, drop me a request if it strikes you fancy <3


	3. Admonition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Esme and Alice have the day to themselves, with unexpected company. It doesn't end on the note they hoped it would.
> 
> General abuse tw in regards to Rosalie’s canon backstory, mentions of some violence but nothing too graphic.
> 
> Without further ado, enjoy!

With the night behind them, Alice is spending the day with Esme. It’s late in the morning by the time they wake up and it had taken her at least half an hour of digging through Esme’s closet to find something that fit her alright, after which she had zeroed in on the caramel haired woman almost instantly. Esme had tried to escape, grabbing the nearest blue sweater and simple jeans but Alice wasn’t having it.

“I know you have nicer clothes than that Esme, come on-” Alice had started, reaching for the clothes in Esme’s hands. She had stepped away with a playful smile but a warning glint in her eyes, one that almost went past Alice. Though, she took notice and for the first time since Esme had met her, left it there instead of insisting.

“At least let me style your hair? Let me take care of your curls?”

Esme had stared her down for just a moment too long to be comfortable before giving in, “if you will let me keep my clothes the way I want them, then yes.”

Alice had bounced on the spot almost immediately at the compromise, to which Esme had made an effort to rein her in. She’d let her do her hair so long as it wasn’t too fancy. In the end, Esme had ended up with her hair in a loose braid that found itself draped over her left shoulder. It’s neater than any braid she’s ever done herself and she finds herself thanking Alice for it.

Esme is the one making them their brunch, knowing fully that her company is a disaster in the kitchen. For a while she listens to Alice ramble about one thing or another before her thoughts drift to Jasper. It doesn’t feel entirely right to know he’s out there while they’re here having brunch without him. She’s too much of a mother-hen in that regard, always had been. 

It’s a result of having had to fend for herself for so long. She doesn’t want anyone else to have to do it the way she has had to. 

However, having had her worries previously eased by the information that Jasper was only a few miles away from them but had not felt like coming up the property for solid reasons, was enough of a reassurance. At least seeing her wasn’t the problem, it seemed.

Straining her thoughts, Esme had reached out to him as gently as possible. He’d been surprised at hearing her voice but greeted her with his signature ‘good morning, ma’am’. Chuckling out loud while flipping the eggs frying in the pan in front of her, she recognizes that despite his tone of voice, he had still sounded antsy. When she asked him why, the only answer she received was that he wasn’t too certain yet. He was staying outside to be sure. For her sake but for Alice too, a safe guard for something he couldn’t quite put his finger on just yet.

Confident that their food won’t burn to a crisp she turns to Alice, “have you seen anything concerning lately?”

Alice merely shakes her head, bouncing over with an empty plate in her hands. Esme is quick to pile on eggs, bacon and a few waffles. It’s the bare basics of a breakfast but Alice doesn’t complain. Even if she wants to, which she doesn’t seem to, she doesn’t.

“I tried seeing what was ahead last night, knowing Jazzy is antsy and all that but-” Alice halts, swallowing a piece of waffle that’s more maple syrup than actual waffle, “it’s very fuzzy right now, I get vague flashes but I can’t make anything out. Sorry, Esme.”

Slight worries settled into Esme’s stomach and finishing her own plate started turning into a chore. It’s a poor habit inherited from the broken nest she’d crawled out of before picking up the nomadic lifestyle, not eating when nerves present themselves in anticipation of something worse to come. She forces it all down with minimal effort. 

Thankfully she doesn’t have long to think about it because she presses them down quickly when Alice points out her Cello. She babbled on for a while about Edward still playing piano wherever and whenever he and Bella did settle. They never settled for long though, Bella always longed to run and discover places she hadn’t been before. Which is how, according to Alice, the two had found themselves in the sunshine state, Florida.

Edward was the first one Esme had found. She had been in Ashland for two months, battling phantom pains and shadows darker than the pitch black of the night sky. When her heart wouldn’t settle she had gone out for a walk, by herself in the afternoon sun. Far away from her residence at the time, she had been drawn toward the sound of a growl and there he had been. Tucked away in the corner of an alleyway, a massive confused mess of limbs and red fur. Newley phased and clearly mortified.

Esme had taken him under her wing like he was her own and taught him how to shift better, control it. She’d hoped she’d done a better job of it than her parents had. 

She has. Edward had told her as much more than once.

When she asked Alice where Rosalie and Emmett were she was surprised to learn that they’d set foot on European grounds, where they travelled around for a while before Rosalie had fallen in love with a quaint little farmers town in the south of France, settling there not a week later as a married couple with the last name of McCarthy. 

Alice had seen it in a vision, she said. It was looking to be highly unlikely that Esme would be seeing any of them any time soon.

She’d miss Rose, and naturally Emmett as well. Rose had come into her life at a strange time. She and Edward had left Ashland about a year before that, travelling more often than not. Most of the time when they did, it was at night so that they could run openly without being seen. That’s when her nose had caught the scent, long before she’d heard the first yelp of pain.

The rest is quite the blur. Esme remembers being met with a painstakingly familiar scene. She doesn’t consciously decide anything she does after that, and all she remembers is running over and jumping on the guy’s back -Royce, Rosalie had said later- and throwing him off the young woman. The others had since gone running but, as fate would have it, Rosalie had been a shape-shifter all the same. No longer trapped and frozen in her fears she’d taken care of the rest. While Esme hadn’t exactly condoned it, she understood the need to do as Rosalie had done, perhaps better than anyone ever would.

Emmett they had met along the way. As a matter of fact, Rose had brought him home one day. He had been cast from his family life after he’d phased. His family hunted for sport, it hadn’t matched well.

“Can you play?”

Alice's chipper voice shakes Esme from her thoughts.

“I haven’t in months,” she chuckles, entirely too bashful. Alice looks up at her with pleading eyes that she knows Esme can not and will never say no to. She’s about to sigh and agree when the doorbell rings.

Alice grins, “saved by the bell.”

It’s Carlisle, Esme can smell him from the living room. She’d not been expecting him but she is not about to turn him away. She quickly turns to Alice, ”best behavior, okay?”

For a minute she almost sounds insecure, no, worried. Alice nods eagerly with a cheerful hum and Esme picks up the plates on her way out. She deposits them lazily in the sink before she goes to let Carlisle in.

They chatter in the hall for a minute or so, Alice pretending that she’s not hearing it as she glances over the bookshelves Esme keeps in the room. She can’t really help herself though, grin widening when she hears him fumble and suggest he can come by another time when she mentions having a visitor.

He’s clearly not used to this from her, she can tell. Which means Esme hasn’t mentioned any of them yet, additionally meaning that she’ll just have to do it herself.

“I like the braid,” he says to her. Esme laughs that one fond laugh that Alice knows is reserved for a lucky few. This means he’s a good man. A good man that she would very much like to meet.

When she hears them come in she turns on the spot, beaming a smile in their direction.

“Hi, I’m Alice!” she greets as she bounds over to them and holds out her hand. Carlisle seems slightly taken aback at first but extends his hand all the same. She’s a ball of barely contained excitement, Esme can tell. She waits patiently as they exchange pleasantries, hovering beside Carlisle as Alice introduces herself at rapidfire speed. He seems to be alright with her, and if she’s making him uncomfortable he’s not letting on. Probably a habit of working with patients in a hospital all day long, she muses.

Content with the thought that Alice won’t overwhelm him and he will live through the encounter she departs for the kitchen to brew tea for the three of them. It’s hard not to listen in on the conversation with hearing as sharp as theirs and most of the time she feels horrible for doing so, finding that eavesdropping is rather impolite but in this instance, she’s glad to be doing so. They hadn’t exactly been expecting visitors so she hadn’t discussed a reason for Alice’s sudden arrival that they could tell others when asked. Now, listening in, she knows the made-up story too which makes it easier; keeping their stories straight that is.

Naturally, Alice makes up one that is entirely believable on the spot. She is simply passing through on her way to Port Angeles. She had met Esme during a vacation several years ago and they had stayed in contact since then. She doesn’t add any other details and Carlisle (thankfully) doesn’t ask. He’s not the nosy kind.

When Esme returns a while later she barely catches the last bit of their conversation, acting slightly aloof as if she hasn’t heard the entirety of it from all the way in the kitchen. Alice is laughing and Carlisle seems to be enjoying himself all the same.

“Esme was just about to play Cello, right Esme?” Alice asks cheerfully when the conversation dies down.

Setting down three cups of tea on the table, she fiddles her thumbs. “I suppose I was, at your suggestion.”

Esme glances towards Carlisle as if looking for approval that she knows she doesn’t actually need. Being met with a kind smile and mirth in his blue eyes is all she needs.

Despite the uneasy feeling that comes with playing in front of guests, as well as wanting to do well and impress, she gives in. Esme moves over to the other end of the room, pulling out a chair that had been sitting tucked away underneath the dining table. She retrieves the old cello with care, gentle fingers caressing the spruce wood of the neck all the way down to the maple of the cello’s body. She brings it over and settles down, sitting towards the front of the chair with her still bare left foot slightly forward. 

She takes a deep breath as she positions the instrument’s endpin so the body of the it gently rests against her chest. The lower half of the body is resting against her knees, the weight of it reassuring and familiar.

Reaching for the bow and placing it just above the strings, her eyes flutter shut out of sheer habit. Esme doesn’t purposefully decide to play the piece that she does but it is beautiful, melancholic and gentle. The notes are like hands, caressing and carrying her far over hills unknown and through the clouds she can only admire from afar.

As Esme plays Alice stiffens and grows impossibly still, her gaze distant and far away. Esme notices the change in the air and when she slowly opens her eyes it confirms her suspicion that Alice is in the middle of a vision.

Esme keeps playing but for a minute she focuses her attention on her. The piece is slow enough that she doesn’t get distracted from dividing her focus. She’s seen it happen to Alice before, the change of posture as a vision takes her by surprise and so she knows that she has to wait it out before asking what she’d seen.

Of course she can not ask out loud, not in the middle of this piece and not with Carlisle here but her gaze does shift to him momentarily as she continues to play. Esme’s thankful for the mental connection she shares with Alice, it makes it easier.

It takes some time for Alice’s thoughts to stop racing, but by the time they do Esme is still in the middle of playing. It takes a bit of focus for her to continue playing as well as at the same time ask Alice what she’s seen. As such, she only directs a vague question that isn’t entirely possible to express in coherent English but it seems Alice understands.

All she is met with is a quick,  _ ‘I’ll explain later tonight, when he’s not here.’ _

Esme decides to not inquire further as Alice regains her cheery composure, though there’s worry gnawing at her now. If she doesn’t want to say it now there is a reason for it, potentially not a good one. That and with what she’s heard from Jasper is enough to get her to rush through the final stretch of the musical piece. Carlisle doesn’t seem to notice it, and if he does he doesn’t mention the change.

“Sorry, I’m a bit rusty,” she says as she moves the instrument from between her legs back to it’s stand in the corner of the room. 

“No matter,” Carlisle counters fondly, “it sounded beautiful.”

“You think?” Esme queries, setting the chair back in its rightful place and moving back over to her high back chair, opposite the couch her guests are settled on. “It’s a piece I learned as a little girl, it’s kind of dreamy but also kind of sad…”

Esme’s voice trails off in a way that gives the impression that there is more to it than that, and respectfully the others wait to see if she’ll speak on it, not wanting to talk over her.

“It’s okay to be sad though,” Esme adds, voice low, “it’s okay to dance with your feelings sometimes, it’s better than getting a sore back from carrying them in your backpack.”

For a minute it’s quiet, the only sound being Esme taking a sip of the tea that has slowly gone cold and bitter. “Sorry for that,” she then says, “I always get a little lost playing that one.”

“Quite alright, it’s beautiful to see someone losing themselves in their art” Carlisle responds, voice accepting and warm, “we all take care of our feelings in our own ways.”

Esme smiles at that, she doesn’t need to explain to him. She never has to. He just understands. She’s thankful for it, more than he’ll probably ever realize. 

“How long have you been playing for?” he inquires. 

“Hm,” Esme bites her bottom lip in thought, “eight years? Maybe longer.”

She had started while still living at home, as a way to keep bad thoughts at bay, to keep herself busy. Since moving out, playing the instrument has become less and less of a necessity but it’s still enjoyable. Edward is the more musically talented one of the pack, so when they’re all together, she leaves the music to him instead.

Conversation continues normally after that and they converse well into the evening. When offered Carlisle politely declines dinner, not wishing to be a burden even though he never could be. 

After his departure the ladies make quick work of dinner, Esme telling Alice what to do and how to not end up setting her residence on fire as they go about the ordeal. When Esme inquires Alice explains that she’ll tell her about her vision when they get to Jasper later. As a result, Esme uncharacteristically chows down dinner a lot faster than is socially acceptable. 

Slipping out the back, Esme is quick to lead them down Finch Creek. Alice lets out a howl from behind her and they are met back with one of Jasper’s almost immediately. It doesn’t take them long before they convene with the big grey wolf up in the mountains. Alice is by his side almost immediately, brushing up against him and Esme can feel the sense of comfort washing off of him. Being near him eases Esme’s nerves at the situation as it always does, he is special in that way.

Finally Alice settles and with a uncharacteristically sullen look between them, starts speaking haughtily about her vision.

_ 'I saw flashes of a meadow, Esme, your form was unmistakable. You looked angry, you were snarling.' _

Esme is hard to anger, some might say she is never angry at all. She is quite the opposite, loving and warm. She is the end of a long and treacherous journey, a homecoming. For her to be unlike herself something must be terribly awry.

_ 'Carlisle was there and then he got fuzzy. Usually when things get fuzzy it means-'  _ Alice cuts herself off there, they all know what it means. They all hate to think about it.  _ 'I don't think you were angry at him specifically. I saw a storm of flowers and there were so many big teeth. Blood even, but that might have been the red of roses or poppies? It was fuzzy there too. I'm sorry I can't say more.' _

Jasper nudges Alice physically to draw her out of the funk she seems to be gliding in. She finds it unnerving when she can't tell what might happen, especially with visions like these. The guilt over something that could have been prevented if she had been able to see it all would have to come for her sooner rather than later. So, Jasper let's calm wash over her despite the sense of unease he is still sensing from the both of them.

_ ‘Esme will be alright, Alice,’  _ he reaffirms, consoling his mate, _ ‘she is strong, you know this.’ _

Esme whimpers softly before closing the short distance between them and resting her head atop of Alice’s in a comforting gesture.  _ ‘And I have you, and Jasper,’ _ she adds.  _ ‘These grounds are ours and we will protect them as such. Together. Things will turn out alright, they always have.’ _

She wishes dearly that in her heart she is as confident about the situation as she is telling them to be. The last time these creatures had crossed her life, it had been uprooted entirely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the cello portion of this chapter you may thank grace-the-disaster-ace (tumblr) for catching my MASQUE reference in the first one-shot of this series. I put it in there as a throwaway and they caught it anyway. The piece Esme plays is called 'On The Nature of Daylight' by Max Richter. It is a piece that always reminds me of MASQUE simply because of its title and how in that short Esme muses on the things she misses, including the warmth of the sun, and I knew I wanted to incorporate it somehow ever since starting this series. I am too in love with the idea that Esme canonically knows how to play cello, so I had to. I am too gay not to.
> 
> I have a lot more feelings about the MASQUE short by the way, so if anyone wants me to yell at them about those. DO TELL ME TO.
> 
> Anyway, things are starting to go downhill from here, see you next week!

**Author's Note:**

> As always, any comments, kudos and thoughts would be welcome, they motivate greatly! Hope you enjoyed this!  
> My tumblr (that I post my carlesme content on anyhow) is Meluisart, so feel free to hit me up there, drop me a request if it strikes you fancy <3


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